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everything is relative

My son, the nephew who had recently come out to his parents and I spent a day together recently. He is one year younger than my son and a proud gay young man who is very much investing himself in his identity and unabashedly expressing it to the world. My brother and sister-in-law know this is not a choice and yet they bristle at his pride regarding this issue. They prefer he be more subdued which prompted a conversation between the three of us.

When my nephew asked me how early I knew I was trans he was flabbergasted at how long I was able to suppress it. Of course he had no way of relating to the world I was born into and how nearly impossible coming out was back then for most of us. Instead, his reference point was this new and braver period in our history.

He impressed with his level of education on LGBT issues and proved himself to be a virtual encyclopedia. I recall being his age and struggling to find scraps of information on the T side of that equation while this young man's knowledge base was nearly on par with my own proving what amazing resources we have at our disposal and what motivation to learn can achieve.

So while I understand his parent's hesitation I am also glad to witness this young man's bravado in the face of a society that still contains large pockets of hostility towards difference.

Our day together was stimulating for all of us and my son's sensitivity around all this was only reinforced in listening to his cousin explain the subtleties and complexities and what it meant to him.

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No, I don't mind

When Halle and I last got together the woman serving us said:

"I can't wait to get home and take off my bra you know what I mean ladies?"

Arguably the statement wasn't the most elegant thing to say to perfect strangers but it made me reflect.

The thing is I don't mind wearing a bra because it is one more reminder that I am trans. Feeling my breast forms pressed up against my skin and cupped within the confines of my bra makes me comfortable and is another piece which contributes towards soothing my gender dysphoria.

There are days when the combination of the feel of my bra and forms, the pull of my dangly earrings and the feel of my feet in heels is a powerful combination which feeds my soul. I used to think this was me fooling myself until I finally admitted that my identity is being affirmed through these accoutrements. They are like badges that allow me to be addressed and treated in the manner I want; like a woman.

The gender identity of cis people is fed in …